Broken
by Neri Scathe
Summary: Warlord Swartt Sixclaw mysteriously turns up missing for a week. When he returns to camp, he's changed. What happened to him during his absense? Well, read it! Chapter Four is up!
1. Whatever You Became

Disclaimer- Sadly, I do not own any of the characters from Outcast of Redwall. Brian Jacques does.  
  
Broken  
  
Chapter One- Whatever You Became  
  
Notice- This is my first Redwall fanfic, so flame me if you really feel like it, but don't expect me to stop writing! Now that that is cleared up, here's some things you can be aware of. I will never use Swartt's point of view in this story. You'll find out soon enough why. Okay then, to the story!  
  
Extracts From the Writing of Captain Scarback  
  
I cannot say what happened to him, but whatever did this to him, I am deathly afraid of. Something is different about him, something's changed deep inside his soul, a soul that I began to question existed. Now I see through this mist he has shrouded himself with all of these seasons, and I see something that was never meant to show. Insanity? Melancholy? What is it that made him this way?   
  
It's something that transformed fear to pity. I pity him, him, Swartt Sixclaw! How is this? When he once pitied me? What have you become, lord, that I feel sorry for you? What has done this to you? Why is it like this? I hate it!  
  
It's a strange thing to see him in this state of...well, there is no word I can use to describe what he is now. He has an extremely frail aura, and I can never understand.  
  
I will never understand.  
  
Whatever you became.  
  
Scarback put down the quill and stared off into the canvas of the tent, the rosy light of the candles dancing against it. He was alone, listening to the silence of a enigmatic night. Some would call it silence, but there was never a point in which there was an absence of sound. Scarback did not know the sound of silence, and sometimes he wished he had. It would be such a spectacular event to hear nothing, whether it be the words of others, the screams of fallen enemies, or the thud of his heart. Sometimes things would just be better silent.  
  
The weasel assassin leaned his head against the scratchy, wet blanket who's task was to keep him warm, a task never before accomplished. He laid flat with his belly against the small blanket, feeling the wet earth soaking through it, indifferent to his environment.   
  
Something was going on, whether it be sinister or just plain strange, that broke the warlord Swartt Sixclaw, once known as the Pitiless One.   
  
Scarback remembered the day he'd left. He'd spoken with Scarback once before he had left, and that was about setting up camp. Scarback thought it peculiar that they had set up camp after such a short walking distance, and so early. Strangely, it was around noon. Normally, they would be forced to march until sunset.  
  
Afterwards, there were no accounts as of where he'd gone. No one saw him leave, no one heard him say anything about leaving. He was just gone, and not a soul knew where or why.  
  
After one night of his absence, there had been searches sent out for him about Mossflower. They searched everywhere in a ten kilometer radius, which was a lot of area. There was nothing, and the horde was about to give up and choose a new leader, until six days later.  
  
A small group of trackers found him, sitting next to a tree, staring off blankly into space. It was reported that he had no external injuries, but he sure acted strange. He was silent the whole time, and when asked where he was, he did not respond. He was reported to have a far away look in his eyes, as if he were mentally gone. He did not even resist when the trackers led him back to camp.  
  
Scarback, who had taken up temporary leadership, tried to speak to him alone. When he did, he noticed a number of things. First off, Swartt's physical appearance was abnormal. All his dyes had faded, and his teeth were the normal shade of creme rather than red. The necklace that he once wore, with the claws of his enemies, was mysteriously gone. He looked strangely thin as well, as if he hadn't eaten much since he'd been gone.  
  
The actions of the warlord were also very disturbing. When he sat, he posture was slumped over, signifying carelessness or lack of self respect. He would never look at Scarback either, he would just stare straight ahead of him, as if no one was there inside his head.   
  
"Where were you?" Scarback would ask repeatedly, but he never received an answer from the ferret. He would just gaze ahead of him with that strange look that the weasel had come to fear.  
  
When he offered the ferret food, he would decline, but not with any type of communication, he just wouldn't eat.   
  
Scarback then summoned Swartt's wife, Bluefen, and perhaps he would show some type of recognition. When she came in, she was devastated to see her husband in this state. The warlord did not react to her devastation, but only stared off in that numb way of his.  
  
Scarback was about to give up after everyone left, and he asked Swartt something out of pure exasperation.  
  
"What in hell's teeth has happened to you?"  
  
Swartt finally made eye contact with him, staring hard into Scarback's eyes, and said, "Everything falls apart," so softly that Scarback could barely make out what he'd said.   
  
Scarback was shocked and delighted to hear him speak, hoping to find out what happened to him. "What do you mean?" Scarback inquired gently, trying to get the warlord to speak more and reveal what was going on.  
  
Swartt merely shook his head and turned away from him, saying nothing more, and no matter how hard Scarback tried to get him to speak again, he remained silent.   
  
Swartt was led to a small tent, heavily guarded, in which he would remain for the rest of the night.   
  
So here was Scarback, alone, brooding upon the subject of Swartt's massive change. What sort of thing could have turned him from a powerful warlord to a silent, broken, pitiful creature? Scarback racked his mind, trying to think of how to get this ferret to speak about what had happened to him.  
  
He turned his head face down in the blanket, breathing deeply, wishing that things could just go back to normal. It was too strange, Swartt wasn't meant to be seen like this, it just wasn't right.  
  
He was lulled by the soft pitter-patter of the rain against the canvas of the tent and the occasional thunder roll. The weather always seems to fit the mood, doesn't it?  
  
After hours of thinking, sleep finally came, and it was welcomed with open arms. Even sleep, however, could not get his mind off of the warlord and the possibilities as to what happened to him.  
  
It was so haunting that his thoughts were not enough, and his dreams were plagued by this happening.  
  
Well, that's all, folks. For now. I hope I will post a new chapter soon. Hope you like my first story so far! 


	2. Mixed Reactions

Broken

Chapter Two- Mixed Reactions

Notice- Don't be surprised if this is a very brief chapter. My computer is down (just got a new laptop, a tablet pc, the kind you can use a pen to write on!) you know, new computer frustrations. I'm using my mom's computer and I only have a couple hours to write this (usually it takes me a couple days to write a chapter). So bear with me, here! I'll do my best.

Bluefen would normally be glad to sleep in a separate tent than her husband, but when she was offered to, she declined. She _was_ curious about these changes that had come over him. It seemed like he was merely a lifeless mass, never speaking nor showing any sort of emotion. She had to know. She was secretly delighted about what had happened to him, but at the same time, she was extremely puzzled.

Usually she was ignored by him, or treated badly. Badly to put it lightly. After a while, she became numb to the ill treatment and learned to accept it, so she couldn't say in truth that she hated him. For her, this treatment was normal, for this was the treatment that almost all females faced with their husbands. Growing up to learn it was right did numb her. She had no bitter feelings towards him.

That night was bazaar to sum it up in one word. When he came into the tent, he did look at her, surprisingly. The look on his face was one of blankness. She could swear that there was no thought process going on in his mind. It was silent for the first few minutes. Bluefen was the one to speak.

"Swartt..." she said softly. "Where have you been?" she inquired, scooting closer to him, trying to break through his mental barriers.

Swartt looked her straight in the eyes and spoke. "It doesn't matter where I've been. What matters is where I'm going," he said, looking away from her to the canvas of the tent.

Bluefen felt her heart racing as she heard him speak. She had heard of how Scarback had tried so hard to get him to say one thing, and one thing was all he had said. Hopefully Bluefen could pry more information from him.

"It does matter," she said gently. "If you would just please tell me..."

Swartt turned to her again and shrugged nonchalantly. "It just doesn't matter."

She nodded, realizing that he would not answer this question. It was so strange, he was being civil, which was very unusual. Normally he would yell at her to leave him alone or go to sleep, but not that night. She smiled. "Is there anything that I can do?" she asked kindly.

He nodded slowly, solemnly. "Forget," he said.

Bluefen narrowed her eyes and stared hard at him. "What do you mean?"

He shook his head hopelessly and laid down, covering himself with the blankets, turned away from her. Bluefen was disappointed at this, and ended the conversation there. She laid down next to him and pulled the blankets over her, putting out the candles. It was relatively quiet except for Swartt's soft breathing. Bluefen _was_ curious.

The next morning it seemed the whole horde was on edge. Everyone began to question what was going on with Swartt's mental health, and there were fights breaking out everywhere. Some were still loyal to him, while small rebel groups made attempts at assassinations. There was a lot of bloodshed that morning.

Scarback had decided to stay in Mossflower until this whole thing was sorted out. There was plenty of food and a river nearby, it was perfect to stay for a few days.

Scarback had taken a defensive stance as far as the warlord went. He ordered the utmost protection for Swartt, and he ordered death to all those who attempted attacks. For the most part, it worked well, though there will small scale assassination attempts. Those beasts were killed in the process, and by afternoon, no one dared attack him.

Bluefen had reported to him what he'd said to her the night before, every word. Scarback ordered her to try to speak to him more, hoping that perhaps he would open up to her.

He and Marbul, Swartt's other weasel assassin, so named for his one blind eye, conversed while they waited outside the tent for Bluefen's reports.

Marbul shook his head, still in a state of disbelief. "What the hell did this to him, Scarback?" he inquired.

Scarback shrugged. "I wish I knew," he replied with a small smile.

Meanwhile, Bluefen and Swartt were seated in the tent, an awkward silence hung in the air. She sat on the other side of the tent, away from him, staring at him desperately. Now she had pressure, that was great. She hated doing things under pressure.

"Talk to me," she murmured to him, leaning her head on her arms wearily.

He turned to her and smiled, a rare thing to see. "What's there to talk about?"

Bluefen shrugged. "You."

He shook his head. "It's not worth your time," he muttered in response as he again stared away from her.

She crawled closer to him and clasped his paw. He looked back at her forlornly and shook his head. "Really, it's not worth your time," he said quietly.

She smiled, trying to look cheerful. "I'm yours...you are worth my time," she said with phony merriment, his melancholy slightly rubbing off on her.

He closed his eyes and sighed. "You're not mine."

Bluefen freed her paw and rose to a stand, frustrated. She then left the tent, and immediately had Scarback's attention.

"What's going on?" he queried anxiously.

Bluefen sneered. "It's hopeless! Who cares, just leave him alone!" she exclaimed as she walked swiftly away.

Scarback and Marbul exchanged looks of perplexity. Very rarely had Bluefen ever spoken, let alone yelled at them. It was unlike her, but then, everyone seemed out of character that day.

"Listen to her," a voice said from behind the two weasels. They whipped around to see a young ferret. He had no dyes or piercing, clad in a vest and slacks he was set apart from most of the horde beasts. He was young, around seventeen seasons old. Slung through his belt was a curved sword in which he worked well with. He had one paw with six claws, thus it was Ectyce Sixclaw, Swartt and Bluefen's son.

Scarback had not taken any sort of liking towards the young ferret. He claimed that he was different from his father, but in all actuality he was just the same with a different appearance. He had earned a great deal of respect from most the horde beasts and was certainly destined to be a leader. He was the type: cunning and greedy.

"You have no say," Scarback said and turned back to Marbul, trying to ignore the young ferret.

He then felt himself being shoved harshly into Marbul, the two tumbled to the ground.

"Have you forgotten, I'm his son!" he spat with contempt, walking away from the weasels, leaving them lying on the ground.

"I'll take my blade to that one someday," Marbul murmured menacingly. "Someday..."

"We'll see how that goes," Scarback said cynically as he rose to a stand, wiping the dust off his tunic. "Not if he's like his dad."

"Yeah, we _will_ see," Marbul said tempermentally.

Abrupt ending, I know. Its past one o clock, and I began at eleven. It'll have to do! By the way, Ectyce=Veil. Fixed that little mistake.


	3. Some kind of Nightmare

Broken

Chapter Three- Some Kind of Nightmare

Notice- Note to Kayla, I'm really no English major. What I consider good grammar is capitalization where appropriate, proper use of vocabulary, new paragraph each time someone else speaks, and proper punctuation. To be honest, I don't know how to fix a run on sentence. Forgive me if I seem...irritable.

Next thing, avblu. You've been bugging me with this timeline stuff! Okay, here's the thing, I do not go by the book at all as far as age goes. And about Veil's name, I thought about that, but kept it Veil for recognition purposes. I decided though, that it would be better if I renamed him. Thus, Ectyce Sixclaw. Pronounced Ektiss.

Psycho, I thought it was two words. Tempermentally, then? My computer is screwy and says its spelled wrong, that's probably why I changed it.

Finally...to the story!

Nightshade found her vision impaired by a gray haze, she didn't know where she was or why she was there. The haze was thick and humid, and she found it hard to breath standing there. Nightshade could feel that her senses had slipped away, there was no odor nor sound that she could make out. Everything was clouded over, and she found herself in a state of utter senselessness.

Slowly, she gained her senses, and as she did, she was horrified at what she began to become aware of her environment. First, she smelled an odor of rotting flesh. Disgusting and sickening as it was, she found herself curious as to her whereabouts. She tried to fan away the thick mist, but she failed. It was still all around her, and she felt helpless because there was nothing she could do about it.

She began walking, losing her balance every so often due to the fact that her vision was impaired. The ground beneath her was composed of mud, soggy and wet. She walked slowly, one paw in front of the other, until the smell became even stronger. She was headed towards whatever was out there, or whoever. A feeling of fear swept over her as possibilities flooded into her rattled mind. What was there? Was anyone there, was anyone even alive?

Slowly, the mist cleared and a gruesome scene unfolded before her.

She found herself in a clearing in the forest. There, in the center of the clearing, seven bodies were arranged intentionally in a way that she found very strange. They were positioned so that their arms were spread wide, and each of them linked paws and formed a circle. Their footpaws were in the center, where there was a small space. Space enough for one creature to stand.

The bodies were badly decomposed, each one was murdered brutally, so the vixen could tell. They all had the same wounds in the exact same places. It all seemed very methodical to the seer. Each one had their eyes missing, only an empty space of black where they once were. Every one of them had a large X carved into their chests, in short, choppy cuts. Another thing that she noticed was that their tongues were missing and their mouths opened wide, as if they were screaming. Also, their ears had been cut off, not only that, but a weapon had been gouged inside their ears. Their paws were cut off as well. These wounds were not bleeding, however. They were long dead when these things were done to them. The one wound on each of them that did have blood was a slash at their throats. That was how they had died.

The dead were not only vermin or only woodlanders, but a combination. There was one weasel, one fox, one rat, one stoat, an otter, a mouse, and a hare. They were all so diverse, so this posed the question, who would do this? Who would kill vermin as well as woodlanders in such a way?

As if to answer her question, she saw someone seemingly just appear in the center of the circle. Someone she knew well. He stood and was staring up at the sky, but it wasn't right. It wasn't right that he was moving and functioning. His eyes were missing as well, and he also had an X carved into his chest. His throat was bleeding profusely as he stood, his head tipped up to the sky, as if looking to it, though he couldn't for he had no eyes. Paws missing, ears bleeding, he was just like the rest of them. The key to his identity was his paw. The chain mailed paw, so this was Swartt Sixclaw!

Nightshade could not resist a gasp. Though he seemed senseless, he turned his head in her direction. The sockets of his eyes burned into her, it was as if he were looking at her, but he wasn't...

"What's happened to you?!" she cried to him, backing away from the gruesome scene, back into the mist, the smell of death fading.

There was no answer, instead, she could hear footsteps. He was following her.

She found herself turning away from him and running. This was the one she served, her mind told her. Her mind told her not to run, she was linked to him by destiny! Why was she running away now? Why couldn't she help him?

She was just too afraid. That was the answer.

As she ran, her senses distorted and soon faded. She collapsed to the ground, breathless, and no matter what she could not breath. Why was this? She gasped for air desperately.

She found herself face down in a cushion. She sat up and sighed, taking in the air with appreciation. She looked about to see herself in her tent, no dead bodies, no Swartt. She brushed her paw against her brow in relief and collapsed on to the cushions, staring up into the canvas. It was just some kind of nightmare...

She groaned. This was surely some kind of clue as to what had happened to Swartt. Surely it was. Even she could not see the significance then. She would have to think on it, and she knew she would. She would spend hours dwelling on it until she figured it out. She always did.

She figured it was early dawn. The sun had not risen yet, it was still pitch black outside. She would have plenty of time to think on the subject.

Bluefen found herself strangely fascinated by this new Swartt. In a way, she liked him. On the other hand, however, he was so unresponsive. It was like talking to a kit and expecting an understandable response. Instead, she would receive an empty sort of response in which she could find no meaning.

She laid on her side, watching him as his chest rose and fell with each breath. He was alive, but his mind seemed so dead, at least that was what he was showing. In a way, she felt sorry for him. He was acting like an invalid, but in truth she knew better. There was something stirring in his head, he just wouldn't reveal it.

He seemed to be sleeping so peacefully. Did he know how his actions had affected everyone in the horde? Did he know how much sleep Scarback had lost over the whole incident? How much sleep she lost? No. She was almost positive that he wasn't aware of any of it.

Bluefen hugged him and rested her head upon his shoulder. She had always made a point to be loyal to him, no matter what. This surely wouldn't change anything. She closed her eyes, listening to the soft thud of his heart, lulling her into a shallow slumber.

Scarback found himself awaken by Nightshade at the crack of dawn. He hadn't slept much the night before, and he would have been grateful for a few minute's more rest, but no. This whole situation was wearing on him horribly.

Nightshade was eager to speak to him about something, though he didn't catch her first few words. He was too startled at her shaking him from his slumber to really listen. Never before had she done that, and it was quite shocking.

"What is it?" he inquired wearily, obviously annoyed.

She did not smile, but she was apparently excited about something. Scarback was dreading what she had to say. He could never understand seers.

"I had a dream last night," she reported to him impatiently.

He nodded slowly. "Go on," he said, rubbing his eyes, trying to rid himself of his weariness.

She explained the dream down to every last detail, making sure not to forget anything. Scarback found himself shocked and disgusted at the explanation, but he listened. He made a point to remember everything she said, it may, just may help solve this "mystery" as to what had happened to Swartt.

After she finished, she asked only one question. "What does it mean?"

Scarback rolled his eyes and glared at her. "_You're_ the seer, you oughtta know," he replied irritably as he laid back down on his cushions.

She was disappointed at this response, for she hadn't come up with anything. She had to know, she just had to, or it would drive her crazy. She was linked to Swartt by destiny, and she couldn't just let a thing like this go!

"Please help me understand this," she pleaded desperately.

Scarback nodded. "Fine...just let me get some rest," he murmured, rolling over so that he was face down in the pillow.

"Be up in an hour," she said and exited the tent quickly to avoid objection.

Scarback sighed. It was all so complicated. This dream was absolutely crazy. This only made him more curious as to what happened to Swartt, and he would find out. Someday...

Okay, I'm very tired. If this chapter sounded bad, that's why. I don't know when I'm going to be able to update next because of lack of computer time, so I figured I post a chapter. I don't want anyone to think this fic. has died. I think I'm going to put off the other fic I began for a while, too much to do...


	4. An Endless Enigma

Broken

Chapter Four- An Endless Enigma

Notice- Avel, sometimes people go nuts. Between my friends (who I am currently pissed off at), appointments, driving, more appointments, my computer problems, _more _appointments, my letterman's jacket, more appointments, and post finals, my mind is pretty much shot. Did I mention that I had a ton of appointments? Okay, sorry about that. By the way, does anyone else find this chapter name suitable for my mental state? O.o

Thanks for your compliments though. I don't like how Bluefen is, but that's how she probably really was, you know. We as Americans are raised to believe in women's rights and all that, but in a vermin horde they weren't. That's what I figure.

Bluefen awoke the next morning to find Swartt sitting up before the opening of the tent. He was staring blankly outside, eyes glazed over as if he hadn't blinked for some time. _He's probably deep in thought,_ she reflected in her mind.

She sat up, the blankets strewn about chaotically. For a few moments, she just sat and looked at him, wondering what was going on in his mind. She embraced him from behind, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Please talk to me," she whispered, running her paws over his sinewy arms.

He took one of her paws and turned to face her. "Don't do this, Bluefen," he said forlornly, eyes fastened to hers.

A tear trickled down the side of her face after he said this. Things like that upset her. No matter how he'd treated her before, she still felt in place with him. The way he was speaking now, it was as if he just didn't want her there. She didn't like this feeling, it was like...rejection...

She freed her paw and looked to the side. "What are you saying?" she inquired, trying to keep her composure.

Swartt stood as if he were ready to leave. "What I'm saying is that you should stop living for _me_," he said as he quickly left the tent.

As he left, she felt a sinking feeling. He'd never acted like this before, and she didn't like how things were going now. She just couldn't understand it.

She stared at the exit of the tent for a long time after that. She couldn't say what he'd meant by that comment, but she thought on it plenty. _Stop living for him? What does he mean? _It was, in all actuality, quite clear to her. She just didn't know how to go about it...

Ectyce Sixclaw was in a foul mood that morning. He'd seen Nightshade running into Scarback's tent, and assuming it was about his father, he was upset at her actions. He was wandering about camp, awake all morning, and she couldn't talk to him about it? _He _was Swartt's family, his flesh and blood, and Nightshade was acting as if it were none of his business! What nerve.

He soon seated himself by the fire, cooking a piece of the pike that the others had caught. He had his jaw clenched tight, inwardly seething over this whole situation. Scarback had practically taken over! Temporary leadership, the whole Swartt situation, and Nightshade summoning him? Why?

Too upset to eat, he flung the fish angrily into the fire and stomped towards Nightshade's tent, where her and Scarback were talking. He wasn't going to tolerate this. He gripped the hilt of his sword as he barged into the tent.

The two were seated across from each other, deep in conversation. Nightshade was stunned at the sight of him, knowing very well the reasons in which he was upset. Scarback, on the other hand, stared up at him with contempt.

"What are you doing in here, ferret?" he queried, not the least bit intimidated by the young ferret.

Ectyce scowled, looking with disdain upon both of them. "_I'm _the one who'll be asking the questions, weasel," he began coldly. He shifted his gaze from Scarback to Nightshade. "Tell me, vixen, why wasn't I invited in on this conversation, eh?"

Nightshade's shock faded to scorn as he spoke. "Because I know that there is no help you can offer. Now get out," she said bravely, glad that Scarback was at her side.

Ectyce's jaw tightened as he heard her utter those last three words. He gripped the hilt of his sword, knowing that it would have been drawn and put into action if Scarback was not there. He wasn't too confident in his odds against the weasel, never the less he would fight him if necessary.

A tense silence followed as Ectyce contemplated what to do. Should he pull his sword and end this conflict with Scarback once and for all? Should he just walk away, and look weak? He decided to go a different route.

"Mark my words, both of you. I don't need some daft seer to find out what's going on here. You'll see, I'll find out, before either of you!" he said, each word stressed angrily. He left the tent hastily, satisfied with his actions.

He then made his way across camp to another tent. He barged inside to see a female ferret, fast asleep. Her mouth was slightly ajar and a small pool of saliva had collected upon her pillow. She was snoring softly. She obviously wasn't the kind to be accompanied while sleeping.

Ectyce shook her until she woke. She looked at him, startled. She sat up quickly, wiping off her mouth. "Um...Ectyce, what is it?" she inquired apprehensively, blushing under her fur to be seen in such a low state.

Ectyce smiled, obviously not phased by her messy appearance. "You, Neri, and me have some work to do," he said mischievously, smiling wickedly.

Neri narrowed her eyes, heart pounding furiously as she pondered what this could possibly be. She was clueless as to why he would ask her. Sure, she was one of Swartt's captains, but she didn't see herself as a good one. She didn't even know why she was chosen to be a captain. She was no good with any sort of weapon, but she could use a dagger in mild situations. She _was_ good at strategic things though, being more of an intellect than a fighter. _Someone _must have thought highly of her, however, seeing as she was chosen in the first place. She'd always been confused about it, but she wouldn't complain.

"What do you mean, Ectyce?" she asked timidly, slightly dreading his answer.

He knelt next to her and shook her shoulder hardily. "You and me are going to find out what happened to him. We have to," he explained happily.

She looked at him quizzically, shaking her head. "Ectyce...I don't think I'm-"

"You're perfect, come on!" he said, dragging her from the mess of blankets by her arm. Neri was very disappointed that he had chosen her. She didn't really care, to be honest, about what had happened to Swartt. She was looking forward to more days of rest, but no. Now she had this to take care of.

The two of them ran across the camp again to Swartt and Bluefen's tent. Ectyce smiled menacingly as he entered the tent.

Bluefen was seated alone, the fur on her face wet as if she were crying. She didn't seem to notice the two come in. She just stared down at the ground, twisting the blankets in her paws as she bit her bottom lip.

Neri felt sorry for her. Being the wife of a warlord must've been hard. Neri knew that she could never do it, but she wasn't like most females after all. She couldn't care less if she'd ever found a mate or had kits. To her, the most important thing was her post.

"What are you blubbering about?" Ectyce inquired rudely, as he always was to his mother.

She shook her head slowly, never looking up at Ectyce.

Ectyce glared at her. He hated it when his questions went unanswered. He could have guessed that she was crying about Swartt for some reason.

"What did he do?" he asked irritably.

Bluefen looked up to him desperately. "Nothing...just please leave me alone..." she pleaded quietly.

Ectyce scowled at her. "You're going to tell me everything you know, female..." he murmured with contempt.

Neri could tell his anger was escalating, so she tried to slip away, unnoticed. Ectyce turned to her quickly. "Where do you think you're going?"

She shrugged, remaining silent. There really was nothing to say.

Ectyce stood, shaking with rage. "Both of you are useless!" he shouted as he left the two of them in the tent alone.

Bluefen and Neri looked at each other and shrugged. He was so much like Swartt used to be. He would only talk to them again in a few hours or so and forget about the situation.

Marbul tried his hardest to stay silent. He held his breathe as long as he could. He couldn't make a sound. Not at this point anyhow. He was placed in a set of bushes in the forest, looking upon the figure of Swartt Sixclaw as he wandered about.

It was strange how he was acting, and Scarback would describe that to be strangely paranoid. He watched as the warlord's eyes darted obsessively about the forest. He seemed so keen and alert, which was strange for he was just acting the opposite. It was like an endless enigma.

Was he expecting someone?

Did he know Marbul was there?

As if to answer his question, the warlord looked straight into his eyes through the bushes. Marbul's heart skipped a beat as they fastened eyes, and he jumped, making a slight rustle in the leaves.

He could only wonder what the warlord would do to him. He made his way over to the bushes, he knew he was there, the question was what he would do...

Sighs Introduced myself into the story (Neri). Yep, she's pretty much what I'm like. Yes, sometimes I do drool in my sleep, but how can I know until I wake up? Okay, never mind. I'm just weird...

Hope this chapter wasn't too bad. It's really a shame that I can't write quality (is rushed) right now. Three hour chapters. Blah. Continuous writing is the only way I like to write, so that's why...


End file.
